


I Don't Need a Tutor

by JustSomeSmutHere



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, M/M, Rick is such a fucking tease, hot for teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:50:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustSomeSmutHere/pseuds/JustSomeSmutHere
Summary: Professor Rick! Student/teacher AU.Morty knows exactly why he took Professor Sanchez's class. But the professor isn't exactly happy about an inattentive student.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PanthaPrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanthaPrincess/gifts).



Morty trembled under the gaze of the professor who's eyes were overly critical, scanning his face and making him feel naked.  
Thankfully he looked back down as he began to speak. Morty didn't think he could take those penetrating words combined with that glare that saw straight into him.

It didn't help that he had an immense crush on him and basically looked up to him so much that it made him feel ill to even imagine disappointing him. You know, like what was happening right now.

“Why a-are you in my class if you're not going to do y-your work? Do you know how many other students would love to be in your place? Don't you think I already have enough work to deal with, grading hundreds and hundreds of papers every week, than to deal with a troublemaker who won't do his damn work? Lucky I'm even giving you a chance to explain yourself.”  
Rick mumbled as he looked down at the papers he was grading, his eyes moving back and forth, scanning them quickly, efficiently. Effortlessly. Correcting exquisitely and ruthlessly with neat script and an angry red pen. His voice was flat and disinterested like he'd had this conversation on a million billion different occasions and yet it still filled him with endless irritation every single time. 

The younger man felt mortified, rooted to the spot as he was scolded like a child by this near god among men, at least in the field of mathematics. And even more-so when he realized he was blushing as he watched his hand.

Rick let out a long sigh and slammed the pen down pointedly, making Morty start violently.  
When their eyes met again, Rick's were steely and brimming with annoyance, awaiting an answer, something, anything from the terror-stricken youth.  
Morty swallowed hard and dared to gaze back into them, showing a bit of defiance even if words failed him.

The professor gave him a look that suggested he thought he might have the intelligence of a potato or some other rudimentary life form before his eyes flicked back to the papers he was grading.  
“Look I know exactly how intimidating I am. But if you don't show some kind of commitment or dedication, I can just drop you from the class now.”

“No!”

His eyes snapped back up to Morty's face and he immediately regretted his outburst, feeling that sharp gaze burn into him.

“What?”  
He spat.

“M-Mister Sanchez. I'll try! Just please let me stay in your class I-I.. I like your class. I really do I just-”

“Then why aren't you trying already?”  
His voice was venomous.

Morty gulped again.  
“I-it's hard.”  
He managed lamely, realizing at once that that was probably the worst answer ever to give a no doubt diligent and untiring individual like the professor.

Rick's brow rose, his eyes now radiating stinging comtempt.  
“Oh, imagine that. Astrophysics being hard. What a novel idea. My whole life's work being difficult for a teenager to comprehend. What was your name again?”  
The man looked back down at his paperwork again.

“S-S-Smith.” He squeaked. He felt like he was going to die, and Mister Sanchez was the grim reaper.

Rick pulled out the long list of students and Morty had a sinking feeling. He flipped a stapled set of papers furiously until he found the one he was looking for. The teacher's eyes slid down the paper speedily.  
“Letsee, Tuesday and Thursday, Two Fourty-Five. Here we are, Morty Smith.”  
His red pen made two delicate and deadly swipes across his name, the movement was so elegant yet so full of scorn.  
“Ahh there we go. See? Doesn't have to be hard anymore!”  
He smiled cruelly at him before his face fell to one of boredom and antipathy.  
“You'll be removed from the roster tonight. Don't bother coming to class anymore, Smith.”

Morty felt like he might cry. He honestly loved professor Sanchez's classes. They were the highlights of his week. The way he'd go on and on about contrived stories of planets and galaxies that didn't exist with that sure, gravely voice; peppering in complex mathematics and making the concepts easy to understand somehow. Those stories seemed so real to Morty. It was almost like they'd really happened. But there was no such thing as interdimentional travel. Though the theory and mathematics behind them, what little Morty could understand, made it seem completely possible in an inane way.  
But whenever he got home to complete his out of class work the formulas would just look like gibberish. They were impossible to decipher and the more he tried to figure them out the more they made his head hurt.  
The book that Mister Sanchez had assigned and apparently written was such a jump from what he was used to, such a steep learning curve that he couldn't cope.

Why did he take this class?  
Just because he had the pre-reqs for it certainly didn't mean he could handle it.  
He knew exact, excruciating reason. Because he was hopelessly infatuated with Rick Sanchez.

It all happened while he was sampling classes. He wandered aimlessly down the hall until his eyes were piqued by a room so full with students that many were standing.  
A man who didn't look young but didn't quite look old was wandering back and forth in the space of the floor, occasionally making his way up the steps among the students, still indicating a formula on the board flawlessly with a laser pointer. And in his hand it really was laser accurate. Gesturing precisely where he meant to with the pinpoint of light.  
Morty peered between two students and listened as the man spoke of distant galaxies and planets that no one could possibly know about. He doubted they could even exist. Mankind hadn't even landed on Mars and he was talking about planets with established alien ecosystems that defied the theories of known science.

You could have dropped a pin and heard it from the hush in the room. Every student was rapt with attention. This professor was a gifted speaker. His eyes were intimidating and demanded attention with only the briefest of looks.  
Morty's eyes went wide as he watched him.  
There was something about him, his gravely voice and how he tasted the words as he said them, running his tongue over them. He said those words with such conviction. Moved with such purpose. Morty was transfixed.

Suddenly he felt nervous a nervous tug at his stomach. All these students.  
“W-what's his name?”  
Morty asked a little too loudly.

“SHH!”

“Professer Sanchez, how do you not know that? Haven't you read his thesis on wormholes?” Someone hissed.

Morty was cowed by someone who obviously already knew much more about this captivating man than he did.  
As badly as he wanted to keep watching him, Morty ducked around the corner and leaned against a wall as he quickly looked up the teacher on the course list.  
Breathlessly he realized he had the necessary pre-requisites.

Full.  
Full.  
Full.  
Full.  
Waitlist.  
He excitedly signed up as quickly as he could.  
'You are 6 on the waitlist'  
Morty let out a puff of air, realizing he had been holding his breath.

For weeks he excitedly checked his email.  
'You are 5 on the waitlist'  
'You are 4 on the waitlist'  
3  
2  
Two weeks went by. Nothing.  
The new semester was quickly approaching and after another week Morty had sadly given up hope.  
Morty had even planned all the rest of his classes around Mr. Sanchez's. Hoping, believing he'd get in.  
Apparently this guy was famous among the scientific community of theoretical astrophysics.

And Morty would never get the chance to see him speak again.  
Two days before the semester an alert on his phone for Gmail. It was from the school.  
He'd made it in. He was in the class, along with 129 other students.  
Jesus Christ.  
So the lecture hall he was sampling was his actual classroom. Morty felt more intimidated than ever.  
When he got the book he was a bit astonished at how thick it was. R. Sanchez graced the foot of the cover in embossed letters.  
He ran his finger over them. The man had even written the course book. And this wasn't like a workbook. A lot of good teachers did that. But this was like a real book. A book that was obviously standard in other universities. Other professors were basing their courses off of his work.

He was a movie star in the field of theoretical and applied astrophysics.

At his first class he sat in the back, feeling out of place as most of the other students spoke to one another excitedly while he sat dumbfounded. He just wanted to hear the man speak. He didn't know a thing about him except that he was famous in his field and that he ached to see him again.

The room went deathly quiet as he entered, everyone watching him as he calmly settled in with his bag, setting up his laptop and plugging it into the projector.  
“Thank you for deciding to attend my class. This semester will outline the theory behind wormholes and what makes them possible and what makes them impossible. The impossible part of course only due to the failure of known mathematics. Over these next few months I will point out the weak points and cracks in these modern formulas and methods and introduce you to the correct ones. MY formulas.” Morty felt like he was holding his breath after this last comment. It held such unwavering confidence that he almost swooned. His swagger was intoxicating.  
He finally looked up after unpacking all his belongings, eyes falling over his students, his face unreadable.  
“For those of you who are re-taking this course, welcome back. Get it right this time dipshits. If you fuck up again, I'll give you a D and you will not have the chance to try a third time.”  
There was that unquestionable certainty again.

Morty was startled by his language. It was a dickish thing to say to anyone and wildly inappropriate for a teacher.  
Something squirmed pleasantly in his gut.

The lecture was long but absolutely fascinating. Professor Sanchez had a way of explaining things that just made them easy to understand.  
As he lectured, Rick would occasionally look around the room, scanning the students to make absolutely sure they were listening. Even though Morty knew that the teacher knew he had the attention of every last person in the room.  
He swore at one point he looked right at him, his eyes lingering. Morty felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Morty was excited when he got home. He broke out his book and began to read chapter one as Rick had instructed. He'd of course already given them homework on the first day. Morty would expect no less. Only when he tried to read the book, compared to the way Rick spoke, the words and numbers may as well have been gibberish.  
His heart sank and he felt lost. And he was too embarrassed and shy to ask for help from all the genius kids in his class. This was an advanced class. He'd made a mistake.

So after three weeks of not handing in homework, the professor stopped him when he was one of the few kids who didn't leave a paper on his desk on Thursday.

“Where's your homework?”  
Rick didn't look up.

“I-I..”  
That gaze pierced him again.

“Well what? Where is it?”  
He cocked a brow at him, making Morty's heart flutter.

“M-m-mister Sanchez, I-”

“Don't move. You stay right there, I'll be with you in a moment.”  
He turned to speak to a gaggle of students who were waiting for his individual attention. There were some students he was patient with and others he barely gave the time of day. It took at least twenty minutes.  
As the last student left Rick turned his attention toward Morty who stiffened under his scrutiny.

Which brought him back to the present.

“Helloo Earth to Morty Smiiith! Are you having a stroke?”

Morty shook his head, brows still furrowed.  
“Mister Sanchez please let me-”

“Get the fuck out of my classroom please, Smith. Don't make me call campus security. I'd throw your ass out of here myself but they won't let me do that.”  
Rick was rubbing his temple irritably as he looked back down, indicating that the time for speaking was over with a crushing finality.

Morty wanted to crumple like a dying star. He left the room, holding back tears.  
He moped until Tuesday morning which he almost didn't have the energy to drag himself out of his bed for.  
After his second class which he barely made it through, he wondered if he should skip his fourth and just go home. After all, he had almost 2 and a half hours to kill. What was the point?  
Time ticked by. 5 minutes until Mister Sanchez's class.  
Fuck it.

Morty hurried to the small auditorium and made his way in with the other students, sitting in a completely different spot than he used to.  
The lecture started again as usual and Morty felt delighted to be back in his class. To have the pleasure to see him speak again.  
That is until he felt his eyes on him. He saw them flicker with irritation for just a split second.  
Shit.  
He was mortified for the rest of the class.

“Your homework is on the board. I expect no less than perfection as always. Check your work, folks. One more thing. Today I will not be available after class but I will have office hours in the library from five to six-o-clock today. I will try to do some light review on Thursday in lieu of this inconvenience.”  
As soon as he stopped speaking he glared at Morty and curled a finger at him.

Morty grabbed his bag and walked numbly to the front of the room, tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt as the students filtered out.

Rick calmly stood and closed the door behind the last student before clearing his throat and sitting down, smoothing his vest.  
“Mister Smith. Kindly tell me what the fuck you're doing in my class.”

He jumped.  
“I just w-wanted to see you lecture..”

The professor sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching.

Morty suddenly felt far more apprehensive.

With jerking movements, he rifled through some papers before snatching the right one from his desk and basically shoved it in Morty's face.  
“Morty, do you see the name Simpson and the name Stevens right after? What's missing hm? What name is missing here? SMITH. It's not here anymore! So why the HELL are you?”

He choked back tears.  
“I-I just wanted to see you lecture..”  
He repeated.

Rick obviously noticed he was close to crying and sighed, laying the paper back on his desk distastefully.  
“What is it gonna take for you to TRY in my class than, Smith? Do I need to tutor you myself? L-like I'd even have the time!”  
It made him laugh at just the thought. Laughing which quickly died away when he saw the expression on Morty's face. Like he'd pulled the moon from the sky for him.  
His brow rose again.

“Really? You'd want that? Do you know how many thouuusands of people, perhaps tens of thousands would pay me a shitload of money for just that? And you expect me to do it for you? A kid who can't even comprehend half of what my lectures are about. And for free no less. Are you insane?”

Morty looked down, feeling like the dumbest creature to ever walk the Earth. But he had no idea about how impulsive Rick was. How could he?

“And what if I did?”  
He looked up to see the teacher with his arms folded across his desk, his eyes half-lidded, smirking playfully as he leaned forward, eager for his reply.

The young man felt something stir below with the expression plastered on the older mans' face. He didn't know what to say. If he said yes, he'd only be wasting his time.

Rick chuckled and leaned back, keeping his eyes on him as he put his feet up on his desk, not caring at all about the papers he was crushing.  
“Smith, you don't know anything about this class do you?”

Morty was petrified at this point. He wanted to lie but those eyes, those damn eyes glued his mouth shut.

“Morty, I know you don't know shit about my work. You don't know shit about the hundreds of essays and papers I've written, all the awards I've won. You know absolutely nothing about the grants I've won and the breakthroughs in science and mathematics I've made. Every time I'd look at your face as I spoke, there was never a real look of comprehension or calculation. No look of recognition of who I was or what my achievements were.”  
He sat up again, grinning wickedly.  
“But you were looking at me, giving me allll your attention. Ohh yeah that was for damn sure. Weren't you, Morty? You weren't looking at me for any of that stuff. You were looking at me for entirely different reasons..”

His voice was teasing and it made Morty blanch with fear, his pants suddenly feeling pretty tight. He was apoplectic with nerves at this point. He couldn't speak even if he'd wanted to. And to be honest he wasn't sure he even wanted that. He just wanted Rick to keep talking like that. Like he knew him better than he knew himself.

“I asked you a question, don't I deserve an answer, Mister Smith?”  
He spoke slowly, dangerously.

Morty just nodded dumbly.

“So that's a yes, than. So you were looking at me?”  
His smile wasn't exactly kind but something about it made Morty's heart slam against his ribcage so hard he was sure the professor could hear it.

Morty's pants felt two sizes too tight. There was no way the man hadn't noticed. He refused to meet his gaze.

“What were you looking at, Morty? Were you looking for something other than particle physics when you joined this class? What did you hope to find, Smith? Because I can't imagine what a man like me could possibly offer other than teaching, to a boy like you.”

He trembled slightly and felt like he wanted to moan. The teacher had him wrapped around his finger in minutes. Morty would have done just about anything to hear him keep talking in that deep, husky voice and whisper dirty things about himself he was too afraid to admit.

“Tell me, tell me why you joined this class.”  
Rick's voice was quiet now, it sent tingles up Morty's spine.

Morty flinched when he heard the scrape of a chair across the linoleum.

Two gentle, callused fingertips were on his chin, forcing him to look up into a devastatingly handsome face. Ricks eyes burned into him.  
“What kind of physical reaction do you have when you think of me? I wonder. Maybe I should do a few experiments to find out.”

Morty let out a weak moan.

Rick's eyelids lowered further in response. His voice was deep now with a seductive tone that made Morty's heart positively hammer in his chest and his dick ache.  
“Do you touch yourself when you think of me, Morty?”  
The professor let out a soft sigh, his breath smelled like alcohol and peppermint.  
“Do you moan my name at night when you're alone in your room? Do you think of my face when you cum?..”

He was whispering, his breath a little heavier.

Morty was almost panting. If he hadn't done those things before he surely would now. This was like the best wet dream ever.

Rick's face was awfully close to his now.  
“Do you want me to touch you? Do you want me to unravel the universe for you as I make love to you? I'll tell you all of it's secrets. All of them. I'll make you beg to hear more.”  
The teacher was almost moaning, his mouth so close to Morty's; head tilting, into an incoming kiss that Morty never knew he could need so desperately.

Morty let out a real moan this time in reply, his mouth slack and wanting, eyes glazed over. He just knew he was making a complete mess in his boxers. He felt like he was melting, like he could barely stand.  
“Fuck..”

There was a chuckle.

“Yeah, we can do that too.”  
Rick grinned smugly.

The boy felt a loss as the old man stepped away. It took him a while to come back to himself and he only fully regained consciousness when a slip of paper was pushed into his palm.

“Here's my address. Any time after eight is fine.”

He watched him leave, his lips still parted, cock still rock hard..


	2. Show Me How

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I stayed up till six in the morning writing this. I feel sick, someone better call the ambulan.

Morty stood nervously at Professor Sanchez's door for a good few minutes before he had the courage to knock.  
After knocking he stayed there, feeling awkward until it finally swung open.

Rick looked slightly astonished.  
“Wow, you actually came.”  
He leaned against the doorframe casually.  
“Didn't think you'd have the balls, Smith. Glad you did though. I could use a release of some tension. So much, teachering and all that shit.”  
He stretched and yawned, beckoning him in with a little wave.

Morty shuffled in after him. Rick closed the door gently with a click behind him.  
The boy looked around surprised and yet not at the same time as he gazed at the organized chaos that was Rick's apartment. Papers were strewn everywhere in haphazard piles. Books lay open to certain pages of obvious interest.  
He was brought back by Rick's voice as he bustled in a liquor cabinet.

“You want somethin to drink, kid?”  
Morty knew he should have been wary but he somehow didn't feel scared. He trusted Sanchez quite implicitly, not exactly sure why after the display he'd shown earlier.  
“U-uh no thanks. I don't drink.”  
He expected judgment but there was none.

Rick came back and sat down on the couch, delicately clutching a glass half full of what he suspected was some type of whiskey from the amber color.

Morty swallowed suddenly feeling in over his head. What the hell was he doing in this strange man's home?  
But than Rick smiled and Morty fell for him all over again.

That smile belied his wizened mind and razor sharp wit.  
Morty didn't need to be asked to sit down as he sat heavily next to him, making Rick clutch his glass tighter.

“Woah there, easy tiger. Gonna make me spill my drink.”

“S-sorry.”

“Ahh don't be I could just pour another. Not sure I want the couch to smell like bourbon any more than it does, though.”  
He winked and Morty felt weak in the knees even though he was sitting.  
With every small interaction Morty began to feel more and more intoxicated by him. The surroundings were different but Rick was still the same. Maybe a little less formal. Almost like they were friends or something.  
“So uhh..”

Rick raised his brow at him as he sipped from the glass.  
“So?”

Morty put his hands on his thighs and tapped his fingers nervously, looking down at the carpet that looked like it could use a vacuum.  
“Uhh so um..”

He felt Rick scoot closer to him until their thighs touched and his heart-rate spiked, electricity running from the spot of contact.  
“I know you know more words than that, Morty.”  
Rick was smiling that easy smile again that made Morty feel like jelly inside.  
He didn't move however to do anything other than that and instead just leaned forward with his forearms on his knees as he swirled his drink and took another sip.

The silenced stretched between them. It wasn't an altogether uncomfortable one.  
“Morty, do you know how hot stars can get? Like the hottest stars?”

“R-really hot?”  
Morty was looking at him now.

Rick chuckled and shook his head, defying Morty's expectation of being scolded.  
“Well modern literature will tell you around sixty to seventy-thousand degrees. Fahrenheit mind you.”  
He took another sip from his glass. The liquor was mostly gone.  
“But that's bullshit. It's really closer to double that amount. I'm telling you Morty, these Earth scientists don't know shit.”  
He leaned back again and downed the rest of the bourbon in one gulp before looking at him again, glad to see Morty wasn't afraid to meet his gaze anymore. He peered through the bottom of the patterned glass.  
“You ever seen Bladerunner?”  
The professor didn't wait for a reply.  
“That monologue at the end. C-Beams and shit like that. It really is like that sometimes. Fantastic. Like god himself had laid out a breathtaking, incredible tapestry just for you. Something so amazing and impossible that you can't even begin to comprehend it sometimes.”  
Rick was staring off at some point far beyond the wall he was actually gazing at. Than he met his eyes again, squinting slightly, his voice wistful.  
“It really is beautiful.”

Morty went crimson.  
“S-sounds like it. Sounds amazing. Unbelievable.”  
He swallowed nervously before going on.  
“It s-sounds really nice.”

“Sometimes it's so beautiful it makes me feel like my brain's exploded out of the back of my head. That something so stupendous and wonderful could exist. A divine dichotomy to the mundane that we experience here every day. Blissful, mind-numbing beauty. So good it makes you wanna kill yourself.”

Mister Sanchez suddenly felt like he was far too close and every time he moved Morty could feel his thigh brushing against his, making his mind go fuzzy.  
The room felt sweltering.

“Ya ever seen something like that, Morty?”

Rick's eyes were scrutinizing his face as he felt his heart beat so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest.

“N-no.”  
He dared to press on.  
“I-is it really like that?”

Silence.  
Than.  
“It can be.”  
Rick's voice was soft and quiet like velvet.

Morty looked at him, eyes a bit wide and a bit too innocent.  
“W-will you show me?”  
He felt like he might have a heart attack at this point. And god he was so fucking hard.

“I'd fucking love to, babe.”

A sure hand with long fingers was squeezing his thigh. He let out a moan, unable to help himself. He clapped a hand over his mouth.

Rick was smirking, his eyes hooded, hungry.  
“Like I said, beautiful.”

Morty realized he wanted more and spread his legs a little. His voice was low and he felt dizzy.  
“Sh-show me.. Please..”  
He heard Rick let out a pleased sigh that sent a shiver up his spine. His thigh was being caressed with delicate movements. It felt so good. He let out a little whine and heard the teacher hum and scoot closer.

Alcohol and peppermint wreathed his face and a whisper filled his ear.  
“A perfect mess.”

Morty swallowed a groan, lifting his hips.  
Lips were pressed softly to his and he poked out his tongue curiously, avid to taste the bitter alcohol-flavored mouth on his.  
Wonderfully pleasing fingertips slipped up the length of his shaft, so delicate, pressing in just the right places. He almost came right there as he let out a breathy but muffled moan into Rick's mouth, cussing against his lips.

“God damn, babe. Got me harder than a diamond.”  
A deep mumble against his lips, making him let out another desperate whimper.

“Fuuck let me touch it.”  
It was Rick's turn to moan as he spread his legs. Morty broke the kiss hesitantly and eyed the growing wet spot at the apex of a sizable lump in the older man's khakis, feeling a thrill run through him like ice through his veins.  
He turned to face the professor more, eager fingertips reaching out to explore and stroke the hardness, squeezing and rubbing.

Rick groaned loudly, spreading his legs wider, hissing through his teeth a few times.  
“Holy shit..”  
He panted.

Heated breathy groans filled the space and it wasn't long before fumbling hands were undoing buttons and pulling down zippers.

Morty found himself in the older man's lap as he wrapped a hand around his cock, eliciting a grunt and moan from him, whining yet again as he felt an equally enthusiastic and skilled hand around his, giving a few long strokes before settling into a rhythm.  
It felt unbearably hot in the room now as they panted in unison.  
Morty leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Rick's feeling a sheen of sweat there, sure that it wasn't just his own.  
He nuzzled against his face, needing something to ground him and some way to show the affection that was filling him all the way from his head to his toes.  
“Ohh my god..”

“Fuck, baby it's so.. nngh.. so goddamn good.”  
Rick's voice was rough.

Morty was already feeling the red-hot coil in his abdomen tighten. He couldn't go a marathon but he wasn't a two-pump-chump either. But with Rick he couldn't hold back.

“Jesus, Rick don't stop.. please. I can't.. fuck.. s-so close.. gonna cum..”

“Hohh me too, babe.. C-close..”

Morty whined again and felt Rick nuzzle his face with a sob of pleasure.  
Rick gave him a couple of long, squeezing strokes, one of his fingertips slipping and teasing at his overly sensitive slit, making him feel numb and edge so hard he cried out.  
“Rrick!”

“Fuck cum for me, baby cum for me, cum for m-me.”

Morty's moans grew louder, his hips bucking out of rhythm.  
“Shitshitshit.. Oh professor..”

He heard Rick's breath catch and he groaned loudly across his ear. Something searing spurted against his stomach, making him tip over the edge, whimpering adorably and pathetically as his hips lifted, twitching hard as he emptied himself against the older man's chest and stomach, ripping another moan from Rick.

“Jesus.. Jesus christ..”  
The teacher mumbled as he tried to catch his breath, panting raggedly.

He kissed him fiercely, forcing another deep groan from Rick, who embraced him, squeezing him close as he made out with him with matching fervor.

“Fuck, Morty.. holy fuck..”  
He gasped between breaths. Morty just groaned into his mouth, his voice dropping an octave.

His skin felt so hot, he felt like he was burning up. He'd happily burn up as long as this could keep going.  
A warm, slick hand was coaxing his cock back to life, making him whine loudly against the other man's mouth and he reached down to return the favor, feeling the vibration as Rick grunted against his mouth.  
A strong arm tugged his hips closer and he felt a hand press his fingers around the both of them, urging him to fist them both together. Morty let out yet another high-pitched whimper and gladly did what was silently asked of him.

The kiss was broken in order to let out ragged, uneven, gasping breaths. He mimicked what Rick had done to him earlier, pressing his fingertips to both of their weeping slits as he coaxed more of the slick mess from them, caressing just under both their heads. As he played with the too-sensitive spot, they both whined and cried out. He heard the older man sob in ecstasy, his hips twitching up hard, making electricity shoot straight to Morty's dick.  
“Gonnacumagain..”  
Morty mumbled in a jumble of words he successfully managed to put together.

“F-fucking do iiit..”  
Rick pleaded.

He felt a strong hand urge his hips tighter in time with his rolling thrusts. The younger of the two cried out in high-pitched little gasps of blinding, euphoric bliss. Feeling the coil in his abdomen tighten, shooting once again against Rick's stomach, coating him for the second time.

“Fuckfuckfuck! Nngh!”  
Rick let out a forceful grunt which dissolved into wheezing gasps as he jerked and twitched, brushing against Morty's rapidly softening length. More heat painted his stomach in warm spurts, dragging one last warbling moan from him.

He went limp against the older man, pressing his forehead to his collar bone as he tried to catch his breath, chest aching as it heaved.  
Rick seemed in a similar way, hand absentmindedly rubbing his back with delightful, tickling fingertips, making Morty shiver hard to accompany his trembling thighs.

“So.. glad.. you came back... to my class..”  
He let out a breathless, exulted laugh.

Morty smiled and planted a delicate kiss to his neck, making the old man shiver too.


	3. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an alternate route that this fic could have taken.

Morty let out a real moan this time in reply, his mouth slack and wanting, eyes glazed over. He just knew he was making a complete mess in his boxers. He felt like he was melting, like he could barely stand.  
“Fuck..”

“Yeah, we can do that too.”  
Rick grinned smugly.

Morty felt a loss as the older man stepped away from him. He heard a lock click into place and a shade drawn.  
He turned, dazed, to see Sanchez making his way back over and gulped.

The man was suddenly close, standing over him, making Morty feel small. His hands were pressed into his pockets and he leaned over him, his gaze predatory but unmistakably aroused. Morty's pupils dilated slightly.

The closer Rick leaned, the more he'd back up until he felt himself bump into the desk behind him.  
Two large hands were pressed either side of him on the desk, pushing papers out of the way, trapping him there and forcing him to lean back on the desk.  
He felt his thighs forced open and something warm brushed against his painfully hard cock, making him whine pathetically, it ground against him, rubbing as a low, captivating voice whispered against his ear, breathy, panting softly.

“Do you know what I do sometimes when I'm alone when I look at the stars?.. I touch myself. Because the realization of something so complicated an beautiful makes me feel so excited, gives me such a rush that I get aroused. I get hard, Morty. So fucking hard..”

The voice groaned, making him let out a shuddering breath.

The warm thigh still massaged against his crotch, unrelenting.  
“And the thought of being so small and insignificant in the face of something so vast makes me cum. It makes me cum violently hard.”  
He was panting now.  
“You know what makes me cum even harder, Smith?”

Morty could only moan in reply.

“The thought of crushing and sullying something delicate and equally as beautiful. Like solving a groundbreaking problem for the first time. Claiming it.”  
His voice was a growl.

Morty was close to cumming, hips lifting against the teachers thigh, rutting against it for all he was worth, fingers fastened tightly to the edges of the desk so he could push himself that much harder upward and inward. His breaths were ragged.

“You gonna cum for me? Lay bare all you are just for me? I'm honored.”  
The words were teasing and they only coaxed more dripping precum from him as his cock throbbed more forcefully, his legs trembling.  
“You gonna let me make you feel like you're me and I'm the stars, Morty? You gonna give that to me? Let me feel what that's like?”  
Rick groaned loudly.

And Morty's consciousness buzzed as he realized the professor was jerking himself off. He'd somehow unzipped and unbuttoned himself and he could feel his fist brush against his leg as his thigh ground against him in quick rhythm with his strokes.

Morty let out one last whimper before his orgasm ripped through him, persistent and brutal in its intensity. He can't remember the last time he came so hard.  
The younger man cried out the professor's name, drawing it out as he whined in rapture. Strong spasm after spasm wracked him, leaving him crying out again and again.

“Fuck!”

A moment later he heard shockingly passionate moans suffuse his senses as something searing seeped into the fabric on his thigh.  
He swore he heard his name.  
He shivered harshly as he came down, his thin chest heaving and stiffened as he felt the unmistakable pressure of a forehead pressed to his shoulder. Realization slamming into him that this god among men, with a mind that made nearly ever other on the planet pale in comparison was just a man after all. Someone who wanted to feel affection and companionship. A man with wants and needs just like everyone else. A man with secrets and vulnerabilities he didn't want to reveal to anyone because of his station.

And Morty felt his chest swell to know that he was the one who'd gotten to see them.


End file.
